


House's Breakup Jamz

by Myx



Category: House M.D.
Genre: First Meetings, Inspired by Music, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Songfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24364402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myx/pseuds/Myx
Summary: House sees a guy and his life, as he knows it, is changed forever.This fic looks at various snapshots of House's life and what his relationship to Wilson was at that given time. 'Breakup jamz' is a playlist that the current House created in order to document over 100 carefully selected and unique moments during the entirety of his relationship with Wilson that were happy, depressing, sexy, not sexy, harmful, safe, using items inappropriately, actually 'breaking up' with Wilson, making up with Wilson, and fueled by various stimuli. Each snapshot exists as standalone chapter; they don't need to be read in order, but it is encouraged to do so as this playlist showcases some of the highest highs and the lowest lows picked by the current House.Tags will be added as the fic progresses. The rating will increase, too. No Archive warnings will appear, though.
Relationships: Greg House & James Wilson, Greg House/James Wilson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 27





	1. Guy

**Author's Note:**

> So, it has been well over 10 years since I last wrote a House fic. I don't own anything.
> 
> The boys own each other.

This fic is all about the first song in the playlist:

* * *

House usually didn’t go to medical conventions because they were wholly predictable, a waste of his time, and full of terrible doctors who slept, lied, cheated, stole, or made a deal with Satan to get through medical school and their residencies. That said, when House saw that this year’s Diagnostic Clinical and Laboratory Science convention was being held in New Orleans, the fact that there's a speakeasy on every corner and tons of venues hosting live music far outweighed how bored and annoyed he’d be at the convention. The convention itself, as he expected and predicted, wasn’t super interesting in that every talk or panel that he attended featured at least one blow hard doctor with a self-inflated ego that didn’t have really anything to show for their work as their data was questionable at best with, in particular, quite ambiguous laboratory methods. They could present about their research all they wanted and throw in words and phrases like ‘novel,’ or ‘future studies might include’ during the course of their presentations or panel discussions, but House knew that no decent medical journal would ever accept their research without some sort of bribe.

Talks, panel discussions, and coffee networking breaks blended together at some point after the first three hours of the convention. House checked his watch for what felt like the twentieth time in those three hours thinking that maybe _this_ time, time itself would (somehow) move quicker so he could leave this hell and go out to one of the speakeasys or clubs. Sure, he _could_ do that now, but seeing as it was barely noon, nothing respectable was open yet and while he was desperate to leave, he wasn’t _that_ desperate to go to a chain restaurant and drink, or at least not be at the convention surrounded by people who dressed far more impressively than they actually were. He was barely paying attention to what the ‘pre-lunch keynote’ was talking about, and, was about ready to walk out of the room. Now, being he was standing in the standing only part of the room (intentional so he could leave far quicker and not have to touch any of these losers in the process), he could’ve just grabbed his bag and quietly left the room. However, House was absolutely, miserably bored. And, the speaker, a whited haired, beady eyed physician who looked like a sleazeball had said “for all intensive purposes” for the tenth time in fifteen minutes, so House had decided to not go quietly through the door. He scoffed loudly.The white haired sleazeball did what can only be described as the cross between a tut and a cough. House smiled wickedly at the sleazeball, and after he grabbed his bag, he yelled “For the record, it is ‘for all intents and purposes.’ No wonder why you’re just a ‘pre-lunch keynote.’”

House smiled slightly as he made his way out of the room and into the atrium where one of the water, tea, and coffee stations was in the center.. He got some water, and, while pretending it was actually high proof ethanol, he people watched. If he was being honest, people watching, while still boring and not entirely cerebral in nature, was still a time honored tradition that House would partake in, especially at medical conventions. No one truly acted the way they acted in real life at these things. Everyone has a motive, or goals that they want to accomplish during these conventions, and, as such, they put on a fake personality, and an even faker smile to try and win people over to their side. People who are decent actors are able to do that and score handsomely, but others flame out too quickly and spend the rest of the convention miserable and defeated. As they should be.

House walked over to the garbage can to throw away his now empty water cup and, a few yards away, wearing a crisp, slightly loose seafoam green button down, black slacks, and black dress shoes was someone who passed House’s “ _absolutely not an actor in any capacity”_ test, was a guy. In particular, a guy holding a brown envelope. House didn’t know anything about him as the person, a spunky-looking Asian woman who really liked touching her hair while she was speaking to this guy, wasn’t familiar to him. House felt absolutely drawn to this guy. He was young. Far younger than really anyone else at the convention. He was certainly old enough to be a doctor, but, likely had just graduated from medical school and was starting his residency, or internship soon. House stared at the back of the guy’s soft looking dark brown hair as it he was trying to send subliminal messages get this guy to turn around so House could look at the front of him. Though, that said, the back of him was certainly setting some very high standards. The conversation between this guy and this spunky woman concluded and the woman was now a blushing spunky woman who was holding what appeared to be a business card . _Interesting._ The guy ran a hand through his hair and muttered something barely above a whisper at the seemingly out of place brown envelope he was holding. He sighed and pivoted on his heel, away from this woman.

House was hypnotized. He wanted to know everything about this guy. He wanted to talk to him. To get a drink (or eight) with him. To drag his fingers, tongue, and teeth across this guy’s cheekbones. To figure out what the heck was in that envelope that seemed to make this guy’s eyes not sparkle when House knew that on any other time, his eyes would sparkle more than the Milky Way.

This guy was the kind of guy that you want so much that it makes you sorry. House wanted him desperately.

_Not boring._


	2. Leave a Tender Moment Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this takes place somewhere in season 2.

Here's the song that this chapter is about:  


Everything was falling neatly into place; Cameron was running some blood assays and was then going to collect a complete medical history, and because this patient a)took an immediate liking to Cameron; b)was a foster child living in the ‘system;’ and c)was as far as House could tell, a human, he knew that Cameron would be busy for quite some time. As for Chase and Foreman, he had them going to talk to where the kid lived and collect samples as, since Chase had said “foster kids are pretty much homeless; we should rule out environmental causes,” he had volunteered himself to go to search the patient's lavish accommodations. He made Foreman go with him just so House didn’t have to deal with him and so someone could give Chase some shit. Cuddy, according to her emails that he certainly didn’t read, was in a meeting with some donors or something meaningful to her, but decidedly meaningless to him. The only meaning that he got from that email was that, for at least the next few hours, he was blissfully free from.Cuddy. 

Lucky for him, he had figured out exactly what the kid had the moment he took a look at the file. His ducklings, however, didn't need to know that. The kid wasn't going to die, so he'd give it 24 hours and, after that point, he'd make a big song and dance out of revealing what the kid has and then, upon seeing their faces when they, collectively as one, realize the real, yet lackluster treatment (steroids and broad spectrum antibiotics), he'd gloat. Boring, honestly. Twenty minutes later, House grabbed the main attraction and his cane, and hobbled towards the elevator. Once inside, he pressed the button for the ground floor and exhaled. He wasn’t really nervous about what it was he was going to do, and yet, he knew there were easier ways to do what he was going to do. That just seemed wholly boring to him. He was never one for picking the boring road. 

Being flashy and over the top was _kind_ of his thing. 

House made his way into the cafeteria and promptly sat down at a (blessedly) empty table. He grabbed the main attraction out of the bag and placed it on top of the table. House saw Wilson before Wilson saw House. This was convenient for two different reasons: first and foremost, House was able to sneak a glance at Wilson _(always a pleasure, never a chore),_ and, far more importantly, he was able to see his face journey when the man at the table to the right of House whipped out his own main attraction and then, with a nod towards House, they started playing together, the man on a harmonica and House on a portable, battery powered piano. Wilson’s face journey wasn’t as impressive as House initially wanted it to be, but Wilson was a better actor than he’d give himself credit for, but House knew his facial expression was going to change from mild annoyance to something far more deliciously facepalm-y the moment House started singing. 

_Even though I'm in love_  
House ignored the very loud sigh coming from Wilson. _Oh yep, right on the time, with ..there it is, that damn the facepalm. Typical Wilson._  
_Sometimes I get so afraid_  
_I'll say something so wrong_  
_Just to have something to say_

“House!? Wh-What are you doing?!”

_I know the moment isn't right_

Wilson laughed. “Well, of course. Not right for me, but singing this song in the cafeteria is absolutely the right time for you, isn’t it?”

_To tell the guy a comical line_

“I’m not laughing, House.”

_To keep the conversation light  
I guess I'm just frightened out of my mind_

“House, you better be frightened out of your mind!” Wilson flashed angry brown eyes at House. House knew they were angry only outwardly; Wilson was just acting the part...or quite possibly deflecting, but that sort of analysis was for another time. 

House snapped his fingers, and, as one, the people in the cafeteria joined in with House.

_But if that's how I feel  
Then it's the best feeling I've even known  
It's undeniably real  
Leave a tender moment alone._

House stopped singing, but continued playing the piano. “Happy 15th Anniversary, Jimmy.” 

Wilson, who was visibly red right now, gawked at House. He was speechless. “Alright, gang, everyone out. Show’s over.” The people in the cafeteria left quietly. “Surprise!” He trilled a few keys on the piano.

“You idiot.” Wilson smiled. 

House smirked. _Maybe next year you can finally tell him how you feel about him. You got close. ___

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave kudos and comments. Follow me at on Twitter:[@mdavenue](https://twitter.com/mdavenue)
> 
> Or, on Tumblr: [my-sun-my-baelish](https://my-sun-my-baelish.tumblr.com/)


End file.
